How To Milk A Dinocow
Kindle Edition on Amazon
Paperback on Amazon
If a freak milk accident that sparks life to a half cow, half stegosaurus isn’t weird enough, imagine how strange it’s going to get when Trip Stanley’s class starts drinking the milk!
Trip Stanley’s best friend Jules spills a glass of creamery milk onto his uncle’s dinosaur machine and activates the contraption.
A creature hatches and grows rapidly into a black and white spotted stegosaurus with and an udder. A stegcowsaurus. When the last bottle of creamery milk that Jules had planned to bring to school for show and tell is knocked over, Trip decides to milk the stegcowsaurus.
My mom wanted to know how the cow got in my room. As if that was the strangest thing that happened all week. Meanwhile my teacher wanted to suspend me, my classmates wanted to erase me, and my neighbor wanted to plant me in his garden. Worst of all my best friend was turning into a dinosaur. It all started in my uncle’s room, the one over the garage, a week ago Sunday. I was reading his journal when Jules burst in.
“Trip, you have got to taste this milk!” She shoved an overflowing glass in my face. I fended her off by holding my nose. This stopped the glass from getting too close to my lips.
“I’m not a milk guy,” I explained.
Jules was persistent, like she always is. “This is better than milk.” She pushed the glass forward again slopping the creamy stuff on her overalls. “This is farm milk!”
“Farm milk?” I watched the spill run down her overalls. “That explains the silly pants.”
“You like my overalls?” Jules squeaked. “My aunt got them for me. And this neat bandana.” She pointed to the red scarf around her neck.
I wasn’t sure I liked them. Jules usually wears pants-pants, not farm pants. I like Jules just fine in pants. Still I didn’t want to say anything bad against her overalls. “Yeah, they’re nice, I guess.” I didn’t want to talk fashion either. “What’s so good about the milk?”
“Oh Trip, you have to taste it! My aunt got me it too. I spent the weekend at her house. I had the best time!”
“Hold on, Jules.” I had to stop her. She was so excited that she was yipping like a yappy dog. “What is so good about it?”
“We got it at a creamery. Do you know what a creamery is?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “It’s a place where they milk the cows. You can watch them and everything. They have milk machines and they hook ‘em up to the cows and -”
“Jules!” I stopped her again. “What about the milk?”
“Oh yeah, it tastes real good. Creamy. Like ice cream. I guess that’s why they call it a creamery. . .”
I knew Jules would yap on. I nodded and continued reading my uncle’s journal. My uncle is always away either gathering ostrich eggs in Africa or digging up dinosaur bones in the desert. He writes down everything about his adventures. You can learn a lot by looking through the pages of his journals. He sketches pictures of his machines and how they work. Or at least how they are supposed to work. Anyway, Jules got the hint that I was busy and stopped yapping.
Then she said, “It’s really good milk.” She waited for me to say something.
I kept reading.
“I brought a bottle of milk back for you.”
I didn’t say anything.
Jules poked me in the side. “I left it in your fridge,” she said then poked me again, real hard.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
Finally, something we could talk about. “I’m reading about my uncle’s machine.”
“Did he get it to work?”
“Nope.” I was sure of myself because the machine never worked. Jules leaned over my shoulder like she was reading only I knew she wasn’t because I can hardly read it myself. My uncle uses big words like enzymes and synergy. I can’t even say them let alone read them.
Jules stopped pretending and stared at the tubes, bottles, and gadgets on the table. On top of that stuff, strapped like a little brother in a car seat, was a big, white ostrich egg. That was my uncle’s machine.
“Tell me again how it’s supposed to work,” said Jules.
I closed the journal. I knew how it was supposed to work because my uncle had explained it to me a gazillion times, just like I had explained it to Jules a gazillion times. She still didn’t get it.
“It’s simple,” I said. “It starts with two cups of freshly crushed dinosaur bones. One cup of bone powder has to come from a girl dinosaur and the other from a boy dinosaur. That’s important.”
Next I explained how the powder gets into the tubes. “You can see he has one cup of crushed dinosaur bones hooked up already.”
Jules read the label on the cup. “Stegosaurus powder.”
“If you get all the powders right,” I explained, “the machine turns on automatically. Then it sucks up the bone dust, mixes it together, and squirts it in the ostrich egg.”
Jules leaned across the table and put her nose as close as she could to the ostrich egg. “It smells funny.”
“Well, don’t smell it!” I yelled. Jules jumped back. I didn’t mean to yell but she was getting too close to the egg.
“I want to smell it again,” she said.
“Back up,” I demanded. “You’ll crack the egg with your big nose.”
Jules turned real fast to give me a dirty look. As she did she spilled her milk all over my uncle’s machine. We heard a click and then the white liquid filled the empty tube.